Injured
by Mystrothedefender
Summary: Francis is growing tired of Arthur's constant moaning, eventually it'll come to a head.


**I really had no idea what to call this.**

Arthur groaned as he woke in bed, he'd never felt so exhausted, so physically drained, he tried to stretch but flinched instead. He looked down, reaffirming to himself that his legs were indeed still broken and cast.

"Shit…" he whispered to himself, shifting slowly in bed to pick up the small blue and gold bell that sat on the pine bedside table. Ringing it repeatedly until he heard Francis shout through from the other room.

"I'm coming Arthur." He sounded somewhat disheartened, but Arthur wasn't going to bother feeling sorry for him, it was his fault he was in this situation, he should pay for it, the French bastard should be begging at his feet for forgiveness.

Arthur frowned as Francis opened the door, still in his pyjamas with his hair mussed and tangled, "What took you so long?" he snapped.

"I'm making breakfast," Francis said in return, letting out a small huff and leaning against the doorframe, "It won't be long."

"I want a drink," Arthur demanded, crossing his arms, glaring daggers at the blond man.

Francis frowned, "No Arthur," he huffed again and rolled his eyes, "No more alcohol, the doctor said it is_ killing _you."

"Tea, then," Arthur answered back shortly, "And be quick about it, my head is going to kill me faster than the alcohol…"

Francis nodded, pulling the door to and walking back across to the kitchen to tend to the eggs, he was trying his hardest to put up with Arthur's demands, but it was beginning to get ridiculous. He'd been bedridden for a week and a half, by the doctors judgement he was supposed to be getting up and walking again by now, but he refused, every time he gave a different excuse; feeling dizzy, feeling tired, general pain, anything.

He couldn't prove that he wasn't feeling dizzy, tired or whatever, but still it was getting tiresome.

He huffed as he heard the annoying ringing of Arthur's bell, "What Arthur?" he said, as softly as he could manage, looking back through the crack in his door.

"I want my tea Francis, you've not even put the kettle on yet."

Francis frowned and grit his teeth, "If you want your tea you come and make it yourself Arthur!"

"My leg is broken, Francis, I can't bloody walk. It's your fault this happened, you should be bending over backwards to help me!"

Francis stormed to the bedroom door, flinging it open, "You know this is not my fucking fault Arthur, this is _your_ fault, you and your damn drinking, how dare you ask for more alcohol, you idiot, how _dare _you!"

Francis walked to the side of the bed, flinging off the man's covers and pulling him forcefully from the bed, "I'm not having you sit there like a damn invalid Arthur, get the fuck out of bed and make yourself your tea."

Arthur grunted and screamed as Francis dragged him to his feet, struggling and pushing him away, "Get off me!" he shrieked, gritting his teeth, trying to stand straight.

"I'm not making you anything," Francis snapped, "I've had enough of you, Arthur."

"What are you going to do?" Arthur shouted back, "You going to leave?"

"Yes!" Francis yelled, clenching his fists.

Arthur huffed, looking Francis up and down, shaking his head and beginning to walk, hobbling past the other man, using the bedframe to steady himself, "…For fucks sake…" he said quietly as he walked through to the kitchen, turning on the kettle.

Francis let out a deep exhale, his head drooping softly, he turned and watched Arthur walk through to the kitchen, flinching in pain as he sat himself down, waiting for the kettle.

"Arthur…" Francis cooed softly, walking through to him and placing a hand on his shoulder, "…I'm not going to leave, I promise you." He shook his head, "I'm sorry I snapped, I got frustrated."

The younger man huffed, crossing his arms and frowning down at his cast, "I just want a cup of tea… I've got a headache."

Francis nodded, smiling softly and patting Arthur's arm, "Ok… We'll do it together, I'll finish your breakfast. Do you want to eat in bed?"

Arthur shook his head, "I'll eat at the table, I am here after all…" he huffed softly, "…I'm sorry Francis."

"I know you are," Francis said softly, swallowing hard, "It's ok."

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